Aftermath
by GoldenDawn13
Summary: After the Second Wizarding War, Kingsley Shacklebolt comforts a broken Orla Quirke.


Kingsley Shacklebolt walked down the long, dark hallway, gripping his wand. Even though the Aurors had already cleared Azkaban of dementors, he was still wary.

As the Minister of Magic, it was his job to make sure to free all the prisoners in Azkaban, because they were Muggle, half blood, or supporter of Dumbledore.

A small witch walked beside him, trembling. Kinsley remembered her parents. They were kind Aurors, proud Dumbledore supporters, though they did not join the Order. Samantha and Caleb Quirke.

Horrible wails filled the hallway, as they unlocked a cell with a lifeless prisoner. The mother, it seemed, flung herself at her son. Kingsley lowered his head, grieving.

The girl beside him, glanced at the son and mother, her face impassive. Kingsley caught his breath, as she turned to him, her long black hair falling over her face. She looked so much like Dorcas Meadowes, the sweet shy friend who died, with her whole life set ahead of her, destroyed.

The sweet witch shakily stared at a double cell. She rushed to it, shaking the bars. Kingsley hurried over, fumbling to open the lock.

She stood, her dark eyes burning into the two slumped bodies. Her parents. The fourteen year old witch paused, afraid, to step into the cell.

The Minister of Magic slipped his big, warm hand into her small, cold one and gently led her to her parents.

Caleb Quirke stayed slumped against the bars, his eyes open and blank. He was holding a small picture. Kingsley's felt a tear run down his face. It was a simple crayon picture, of three stick figures all smiling and holding hands.

"_To Dada, Love Orla," _ signatured the drawing. A small piece of paper, filled with pure happiness and joy of a little daughter.

Orla dropped to her knees, her body shaking with silent sobs. Kingsley softly closed Caleb's eyelids, his hands trembling. Two Aurors briskly strode in, carefully carrying Caleb's body away for burial.

Wizard and witch shakily came over to Samantha. Samantha Quirke's eyes were dull, but her chest was slowly breathing in air.

Orla's eyes filled with hope. Kingsley felt a wave of grief wash over him. How could someone so young and innocent have such a heartbreaking life?

People stared at her and shielded away from her clawed eye, shriveled hand, and scars. Her best friend died, and her other best friend isn't talking, lost in a sea of depression. She was only fourteen and she just found her father locked up in Azkaban, lifeless.

"_Mom_?" breathed Orla. The mother shivered, her face gaunt.

"Caleb," she pleaded raspily.

The daughter wrapped her arms around Samantha. "He didn't make it Mom," she sobbed.

"Caleb," the mother repeated, shrugging off the hug. "Caleb."

Kingsley felt his heart break as he watched Samantha say Caleb over and over again. The dementors had driven her to insanity, leaving her soulless and unable to say anything except her husband's name.

Orla Quirke collapsed to the cold floor, broken. The Minister hugged her tightly, and she grieved in his strong, comforting arms.

Kingsley Shacklebolt felt as though this was a second chance. A chance to guide and help the life of the young witch, the one Dorcas never got. He didn't know her at all, he barely knew her parents, but he had already made up his mind.

That day, the Minister of Magic adopted a broken Orla Quirke.

The two became close, like a real father and daughter. Kingsley never replaced Caleb though, he was more of a loving, caring, guiding, godfather.

Orla watched her godfather unite his life with Hestia Jones. She became a proud older sister of Ziva Shacklebolt. Kingsley held her hand every May 8th, the day the two found Orla's parents in Azkaban. He stayed by her side the entire day (which was extremely dedicated, he _was_ the Minister of Magic) when Samantha Quirke passed away, after spending many months sitting in a hospital room, babbling her husband's name. The Minister of Magic walked the beautiful bride down the aisle, who was no longer the little girl he had raised.

The two were always there for each other. _Always. _


End file.
